Rise from the ashes
by Kierany9
Summary: He was insane. He was the only survivor. He was the only cause. He would kill and engulf anybody in his path. He would become the most feared enemy of someone who was right beside him. He was...Paul DeRicard?


Paris  
1946

It was a sunny day in Paris. The war was over and the city was recovering whatever losses it had during the war. Paul DeRicard was a rich boy, about ten years of age. He had a Swiss mother and a French father. They had moved to France a year ago, when World War II had ended. He was walking behind a gas station, and went into a dark alley. It was damp, the walls were mossy and it had a stench of tobacco. He stepped over a puddle and saw someone smoking, about his age. With his hands in his pockets, he approached the smoker.

"You got any...tobacco?" he asked in French.

"Yes I do..." replied the smoker, also in French.

"What strength?"

"I got the strongest tobacco in the whole of Paris."

"How much for it?"

"Ten thousand francs for all of it."

The young boy took out a note and handed it to the smoker.

"Hurry, I don't want my parents to know I'm gone."

"You're the boss."

The boy stuffed all the tobacco into his coat and rolled some up inside some special paper into a cigarette.

"Here." said the smoker, handing the boy a match. He lit the match and lighted the makeshift cigarette. The boy walked out and headed towards the gas station. His parents were there. In a panic, he put the cigarette and as much tobacco as possible down a fuel pump.

"Hi mum. Hi dad," he said, pretending nothing happened. His mother ran over to him and his father began to fill up his car with gas.

"Where were you? We've been looking all over," said his mother, taking in a big sniff. "Do I smell tobacco around here?"

"No...you don't."

"Young man, have you been smoking again?"

Meanwhile, the lit cigarette had began igniting the rest of the tobacco. The odor seeped out of every single fuel pump in the station.

"I swear, I didn't do anything!"

"Young man, you are grounded!" she yelled, dragging her son by the ear to the car. They got in and started the engine.

BOOM!

Just then, the lit tobacco touched the fuel inside the car. The vehicle exploded, and soon it took the rest of the gas station with it.

"_Mon dieu!_" said the boy who had given Paul the tobacco. He then ran away, not wanting to get in trouble.

Fifteen minutes later, the ambulance arrived. Only Paul and his mother were alive. Everybody else at the station was dead. Paul had severe burns all over his body, several broken bones and was suffering hallucinations due to the tobacco. A few minutes later, he entered a coma. His mother had a broken rib and some short-term amnesia. About five hours later, Paul's mother had died in hospital. A doctor on a visit from Germany had removed her skeleton and had disappeared. Paul woke up the next day. He had trouble speaking due to the fact that his face had partially melted, welding some of his mouth shut. He looked around. He was in a white room. Then he was in a beautiful field. White room. Beautiful field. Room. Field. Room. Field.

"Wh...r...m...i."

"Paul, are you alright?" asked a doctor.

"Y...s"

Just then, he started chocking.

"What's the matter?"

A nurse ran in.

"Sir, I think his respiratory track is broken. He can't tolerate the particles in the air. He could die any minute now."

"Well what are you waiting for? Get an oxygen mast!"

"There aren't any left!"

"Then a gas mask will do just fine!"

The nurse rummaged around the room until she found an old WWI gas mask. She grabbed a black rubber mask and put it over Paul's head. The chocking stopped and his breathing normalised.

"I think he's OK. Paul, are you OK?"

"Mmmph, mmr, mmmmmph!" he said, giving a thumbs up. Paul was in a beautiful field, with a baby doctor and a baby nurse with wings. He got up and ran further into the field. He then, somehow, entered a beautiful pink and blue city, full of trees, nature and more. He was taken to this place, then another place and was finally given to a nice old lady who would take care of him for years to come

* * *

Mann Co Headquarters  
1968

The pyro shook the hands of his fellow comrades. They had won their first battle, the first of thousands to come.

"Hey, pyro boy!" said the Scout. "What's your name?"

"Mm, mmph, mm, Mmph"

"Silent fella, eh? No prob, I'll just ask Ms Pauling."

"Mm, mmph! Mmmmmmmph!" said the pyro, jumping up and down.

"What? Your name is Pauling? That would be a twist! Pyromaniac Pauling!"

The pyro shook his head.

"Paul?"

He nodded.

"Nice to meet ya Paul. Name's Jack. So...how was today's battle?"


End file.
